


Fifty Shades of Fanfiction

by Lulabell_30



Category: Fifty Shades of Grey - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lulabell_30/pseuds/Lulabell_30
Summary: Anastasia is the 33rd child of a Factory; a hellish prison where children are raised to kill one another. Kept there until her twenties, she was certain she would never see outside it's walls, until a cybernetically enhanced man who calls himself, Grey, frees her from the nightmare she'd known all her life. While experiencing the outside for the first time, Grey pleads for Anastasia's help. But Grey needs her to shed more blood. Will Anastasia agree? Will she be able to right Grey through her wrong doings? And what of this inexplicable attraction Anastasia feels for rescuer? Will she be able to overcome her fear and experience true ecstasy?





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: A Taste

 

Anastasia was a twenty something woman from the industrial city of Borgond. She had no last name; property of the Factories were never given names. And although she had been freed of the Factory she had called home, she was still a prisoner.

She was bound and gagged and thrust sideways onto a black mare now, the man who 'rescued' her from the Factory, holding the reigns. He had told her his name was Grey, right before he had bound her hands behind her back. He was strange, and Anastasia felt deep down that the man who had saved her was incomplete. He had stared at her with blazing red eyes, a fury present in them that she herself had kept hidden deep within her gut.

The Factories were hellish nightmares of places where you were kept hidden and tortured; subjected to the whims of the Doctors and made to fight other Colleagues. "Collies," the Doctors had called them, right before they ordered them to kill each other. Anastasia shuddered thinking about all the blood. All the empty eyes that had stared back at her.

She was lucky; a man had come to take her away and while he had treated her poorly, anything was better than the Factory that fueled such hatred and fed such madness. As the man called Grey shifted slightly in the saddle, Anastasia caught a glimpse of a tiny tattoo right below his left ear. It was a triangle with a series of numbers on one of its sides, a date on the other. Anastasia's eyes grew wide. "He's been upgraded," she thought, now understanding why she had found him so strange. Even though the Factory was a place of torture and death, it had also been a place of learning. The Doctors made sure each Collie knew the ins and outs of Dundona.

Upgraders were considered to be Elite humans; men and women (and sometimes, children) who chose to be outfitted with experimental cybernetics. These people were either poor or sick or some were said to be former captives of a Factory. The fatality rate for upgrade operations was said to be one in three.

When Anastasia was little and first learned of the Upgraded, she had hoped to the sky that one day she would get chosen for one of those operations. She knew of the death rate but still, she wished for it every night.

She knew that with the operation, one way or another, she would find freedom and her bloodied hands would be unbound from the Factory. Never did she think that ten years later, a man with blood red eyes, would whisk her away from the place.

Since Grey had kept her eyes unmasked, Anastasia was able to see high mountains pass by in the distance. She had never seen the outside before; she'd only ever read about the different climates and landscapes Dundona had to offer. But words could only say so much, and the sea of green that passed underneath them along with the cerealuean of the sky overhead, were so much more vivid than she imagined possible.

Grey had been rough with her, this much was evident with her current state, but he had done her a kindness, even if it had been unknowingly, and she thanked him silently from the bottom of her heart because this was the first time in a long time she had seen anything besides blood.

As she watched the sun dip below the hillside, she saw a vast sea unfold before her. Here, Grey slowed his mare and got off. He paid no mind to Anastasia, just walked his horse closer to the ocean.

"Time for a bit of rest, eh old girl," he mumbled, running a tan, slender hand over the ebony fur of his horse.

Anastasia watched, mesmerized by how gentle the hands that had bound her so roughly, could be used in such a kind way. And deep down, her inner goddess, wondered if those hands could ever show her that same kindness.

After a few moments of silence, a breeze blew around them, its invisible fingers tousling Grey's dark chocolate hair, his hands fumbling awakwardly to smooth the unruly strands back into place. Anastasia thought Grey looked almost childlike then. He must have felt her gaze on him because he squared off his shoulders, straightened his posture and turned towards Anastasia.

"I'll remove your gag if you're quiet," he said, his eyes like smoldering embers dotting the now dark skies.

Anastasia nodded and Grey removed the scarf from her mouth. For a moment, his forefinger brushed against her lip; his skin calloused and cool. His touch made Anastasia quiver, a feeling of wanting swirling deep inside her. She blushed at this, at how easily she could be stimulated. And by a stranger no less. Grey didn't seem to notice her shudder, that, or he didn't care enough to make note of it, and began to until that ropes that held her hands.

Each accidental touch of his fingers against her bare skin, sent electricity up her spine. She wanted to jerk away; it was just too much, too new, and too scary. Was this normal? Or was Anastasia different? She had always been told she was special. Is this what the Doctors had meant?

Once Grey had finished and Anastasia felt the normal pallor of her cheeks returning, she tried to hop off the horse. But her muscles were too stiff and exhausted. She teetered back and forth for a few moments before she slid right off. She braced herself for pain but felt none.

Instead, she felt the cool touch of the hands that had excited her so, wrap themselves around her, lifting her upright. And just as suddenly as she felt their gentle embrace, they disappeared, leaving her heart racing, her cheeks glowing the color of the communist manifesto.

"You're name's Anastasia," a deep syrupy voice growled from behind her. Her heartbeat quickened. She felt her knees begin to buckle and she reached a hand out towards the mare's flank for some stability. She didn't turn towards Grey. She couldn't. She could feel her excitement coloring her face, a lurid twinkle was surely present in her eyes. She couldn't let him see her like that.

He continued, "I've watched you for a while now."

At this declaration, Anastasia couldn't help but turn around. Her eyes met his. And for the first time, she really took him in. Tall, chiseled, muscular, drop dead gorgeous. She wondered if he'd had his looks upgraded when he had the operation. "How," she asked, trying to look away but finding herself unable to do so. The steadfastness with which he gazed upon her, free of judgement, made her want to run. He was dangerous, of this she was certain, but in what way?

"I merged with the security software at your Factory," he stated. His voice seemed so stoic, so freed of emotions. Maybe he had grown up mute and had the operation to get a voice modular? Anastasia's mind raced with all the possibilities of why Grey had chosen to be upgraded.

And then he spoke again, his voice snapping Anastasia free of her thoughts. "I'd been searching for you for a long time." Anastasia stood in shock.

So many things were happening to her so quickly. She had been freed, seen the outside for the first time on a horse, and met a man who spawned such an unrelenting desire within her, she had been sure she had succumbed to madness. And now her gorgeous rescuer with eyes the color of war, had told her he'd been searching for her.

"Why would you look for me? How did you even know I exist," she mumbled, her eyes focused on the ground. She couldn't stand Grey's gaze any longer.

"You're special, Anastasia. You're a child of the Factory. The 33rd child, to be exact, and I need you," he pleaded, his voice sounding far away. She looked up at him, his gaze focused on the sky above. In those scarlet eyes, she saw sadness, a deep eternal sadness. Grey looked so broken right then. Had the Factories made her that broken too, she wondered.

Just as she was about to ask him what he had meant, he turned towards her; seemingly having sensed her lips beginning to part. "I can't tell you anymore. There are… secrets needing to be kept." And then, as an afterthought, he added in a soft whisper, "It's easier that way."

Anastasia disagreed with him; she hated all the things that had been kept from her at the Factory, but she couldn't voice her disdain. Something about how Grey looked made her words get caught in her throat.

"Grey," she called, surprised by how frail her voice had become. He turned toward her and simply waited for her to continue. But the words never came. If I trust you, where will you lead me too? Anastasia was too afraid of the answer so instead she asked another question. "Mind if I go and clean myself off?" she looked toward the sea. Grey just nodded.

She had never felt the ocean before but as she felt the water splash against her feet she jolted upright. "It's cold," she exclaimed. But after a few moments to adjust, she found it comforting and the subtle way it crashed against her skin, refreshing. She walked further into the ocean until she was waist deep in its clear, crystal waters. Then she poured a couple of handfuls over her face and head, the filth washing off her.

As she did this, she looked up towards the moon. It hung low in the sky, and Anastasia felt as if she could reach up and grab it. And as she took a free hand and lifted it toward the moon, she felt relieved her childhood dream hadn't come true.

She never would have felt the ocean, had the wind run its way along her body, the sensation of her hair being whipped into her eyes, exhilarating. She never would have met Grey. It was then that she noticed she had begun crying.

"Tears," she said reaching a hand to her face, rubbing the warm wetness between her fingertips wondering when had been the last time she'd cried. Then, she turned towards the shore, looking at where Grey had been standing, though now he melted into the darkness. "Hey, Grey," she yelled. She continued, not waiting for his response, "If I go with you, will I be able to wash my hands free of all this blood?"

A few moments passed before she got a response.

"If you go with me," he said, his voice sullen and heartbreakingly honest, "I'll require you to spill more blood."

Anastasia sucked in a breath, icy and stagnant. It began choking her. More blood? Hadn't she done enough?

As she was getting lost in her thoughts, she heard Grey's voice again. "Anastasia, I need you…" he yelled, his voice cracking under the weight of some invisible sorrow that seemed to be strangling him.

Anastasia's tears flowed freely now, tears for herself and for Grey, and before she knew what she was doing, she was running back toward the shore, toward Grey. Soaked through and disheveled, a wet crying mass before the man who had given her her freedom, Anastasia collected herself, stood upright and gazing straight into Grey's eyes, told him, "I'll go with you."

She attempted a smile and the most vivid one she'd ever given anyone, appeared on her face, threatening to split her head in two. Grey just nodded and mounted his horse. He turned toward Anastasia and outstretched his hand. Without hesitation, she grabbed for it, welcoming the cool touch and calloused texture; taking her place behind him on the horse, this time as a partner and not as a hostage.

A glimmer of hope shot through her body and as she gazed one last time at the ocean, she believed that one day she could finally be free. Grey nudged the horse and it began moving forward, neither of its riders knowing where their journey would lead them. If only they had known...


	2. A Bite of Truth

It had been three days since Christian Grey had set off with every intention of killing the 33rd child. But something had changed inside him the moment she had stared back at him with those empty dark blue eyes.

She was striking, the way she stared into him, hunched in the corner of a bloodstained room, her opponent laid out on the other side, blood pooled around the large gash in her neck.

The Factory had turned her into this savage, dangerous creature. He knew that the years of abuse there had tore her humanity from her. How could he be expected to end her life when he hadn't even been sure she had had a life?

He had chosen to give up his humanity. Where had her choice been?

They were now in the town of Claive, a small place nestled in the dense forests on the eastern side of Dundona. And in the middle of the night, Christian stood over her, watching her sleep soundly bathed in moonlight. She was a completely different person from the one he had first met.

He could kill her. It wouldn't take much to snap her neck with his enhanced strength. But he couldn't bring himself to do so. Nothing held him back; he had been freed long ago of what bound him to guilt and regret.

But when in front of Anastasia, he felt so naked. As if the man he once was, had returned. And that man was someone he despised more than anyone. Christian then noticed sweat beading on Anastasia's porcelain brow. Night terrors again. When he had asked her about them, she had simply responded, "That's how I've always slept. Is it not normal?"

Poor girl, he had thought then and did so again as he reached down to wipe her forehead with his hand. He noticed himself wanting to let his hand linger, trace the lines of her face, run his fingertips over her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips, and a moment of fear grabbed him. "This should not be happening," he muttered, swiftly removing his hand from Anastasia and heading for the door of the room. Christian needed to escape.

Outside the tiny hut they had rented from a farming couple, Christian stood, blue smoke rising from the tip of a cigarette. Because his body chemistry was enhanced, he got his energy from alchemically altered goods. The cigarettes he smoked were such goods, and emitted an eerie bluish smoke. The people of tradition on Dundona, feared anything mechanically or alchemically enhanced so Christian deliberately smoked at night where he could easily hide.

This night, unlike most of his recent nights, he was deep in thought. He needed to kill Anastasia but wasn't able to. Instead, he had decided to drag her into his mess, his war, where he was certain she'd get hurt.

His inner godhood had never been so conflicted. When he had truly been alive, he had used many women. He had bound their bodies to himself; them his beautiful obedient tools. He used them to get want he wanted and then threw them to the wayside, their pockets full of coin, their purposes fulfilled.

The women enjoyed their time with him all the same; the seduction, the fantasy, the adrenaline, the wrong they committed. But he had shed that persona many years ago. Why did his desire to completely dominate return when he met Anastasia? What was it about her that made him want to unmistakably make her his?

It was too late now. She had agreed to help him, had even shed tears for him. And he recalled how that night by the ocean, he had ached to taste her tears and then devour her entirety. "Damn," he exhaled, a puff of blue escaping into the darkness. He could feel himself getting erect. The cool night's air wasn't working the way he'd hoped.

"I don't love," he spat. "I fuck...I fuck... up everything," he added, a thick self depreciating venom clinging to his every word. Christian took one last puff on his cigarette before putting it out between his fingertips and heading back inside, where he had luckily thought to get his own room.

A crunching of twigs underfoot told of something in the forest. That something, reached down to grab Christian's cigarette, taking a few long sniffs of it under their nose, an eerie pearlescent smile on their face. The mysterious stranger took out a tiny circular device. A thin voice echoed from inside it.

"Well," the voice asked.

"He smokes. That's new. He used to be concerned with his health," the forest guest responded, rolling Grey's cigarette between her index finger and thumb. The voice at the other end of the device sighed in annoyance.

"Not that, Elena. Did he fall for her?"

Elena flicked the cigarette butt into a small thorny bush.

"Of course he did. The 33rd is still human and as much as he doesn't want to admit it, so is Christian Grey."

"That's good news. Return." The line suddenly cut out and then after a few seconds, static came humming through the channel.

"Yes, Doctor," she said begrudgingly, crushing the transmitter in between her palms.

Before leaving, she turned back towards the cottage that housed a sleeping Anastasia and a frustrated Christian. Elena's smile grew on her face. "Oh, Christian. If only you knew what actually went on at your upgrade operation."

She slipped a remote from her pocket.

"No, no, no, Elena. We mustn't make things too easy. Having him do our bidding? It's simply too boring."

With that, she shoved the remote back into her pocket and disappeared into the darkness.


End file.
